Glitch
by Phoenix122333
Summary: Sometimes, gateways to other dimensions open up, allowing characters and items to fall through to our world. But sometimes, these gateways glitch, pulling people and things from our world into others. Three guesses as to where this is headed and the first two don't count.
1. Prologue

Sometimes, being in a Central universe sucks. You'll just be walking down the street, minding your own business, when suddenly WHAM! Voldemort and his Death Eaters will invade your hometown, or Cyclonians will take you hostage, or a magic crystal will fall out of the sky and into your favorite dessert! And then you'll be stuck with the after-effects until everything is resolved. And I mean _everything._ You have to capture everyone and throw them back through the portal they came through, get rid of everything they brought with them, and then close the portal. Only then will the universe reset, undoing all damage and bringing everyone back to life.

Who's in charge of all of this, you ask? Well, in every city in the world, there's one person that remembers these...crossovers. Everyone else forgets when the universe is reset, but not them. They get to enjoy the knowledge that their entire world isn't as it seems, that death isn't permanent, and that time and space mean nothing.

A Central universe has many other universes connected to it through time and space, like the middle of a bike wheel and its spokes. Though the portals may be closed, the passageway is always there, waiting to be opened. The Spoke universes aren't connected to any universe except the Central universe, to prevent inter-universal conquest. It _is _possible to travel between Spokes by traveling through the Central, though, so the Watchers, as those who remember are called, must be ever-vigilant.

Sometimes, though, there are…discrepancies. In the formula that dictates when portals open, in the process that resets the universe after everything has been sent back, and sometimes in the magic that selects a new Watcher when the current one becomes too old. They all sort themselves out with a little time and some slight nudging, but there's one discrepancy that isn't as easily fixed. One discrepancy that Watchers everywhere simultaneously dread and anticipate.

Sometimes, a Watcher is taken from the Central universe to a Spoke universe.

And that, dear readers, is where out story begins.


	2. Liquo Dimensiva

It was shaping up to be a normal day for the employees of the Starlight Arcade. It was moderately busy, a few games had minor malfunctions, and people were spending more time picking prizes than actually playing; all parts of a usual day. However, there was something in the tint of the sky, or perhaps the way the wind blew, that unsettled one of the employees. Known in the Arcade as Sirius, though his real name was Jason, the teenager standing behind the token counter knew that something was going to happen on this particular day. He just didn't know what, exactly.

Oh, if only he did.

It started with a little unnoticeable wind; everyone thought it was from the open doors, big enough to fit a car through. It simply pushed some litter around and chilled a few people, making them draw their coats a little tighter around them.

Then it got a bit…stronger.

"My tickets!", a poor little kid called out in dismay, but they were snatched out of the air and returned with a kind smile by Sirius. He straightened up and looked toward the doors with narrowed eyes, then nodded his head in decision and pressed the button that closed them. They rumbled towards the floor on their tracks, cutting off the sunlight from the outside…but not the wind.

Now he knew something was wrong. The wind was still blowing through the arcade even though it shouldn't strictly be possible, but as he watched, things only got stranger. The wind began picking up dust and lint, as wind is wont to do, but instead of swirling along the ground, it was picked up to blow through the air. More specifically, it began circling the suspicious boy in a tall spiral, completely surrounding him and prompting him into action.

He tried to walk out of the spiral but it wouldn't let him, the wind and perhaps something else pushing him back every time he tried. Then he tried throwing himself at the barrier, but he was simply flung back to land softly on the floor. Finally he tried throwing the sleeve of his hoodie around a support beam, grabbing it when it came around the other side, and pulling himself out, but the fabric got physically _cut _by the wind before he got too far.

And then, all at once, the wind stopped. The dust stopped. The lint stopped.

It just…stopped.

And then it all imploded into him, catching fire as it did so and compressing him into a tiny needlepoint. He was squeezed tighter…and tighter…and tighter…and then a voice called out, "_Liquo dimensiva!_", and all went black.

**Well, that was shorter than last chapter, wasn't it? Don't worry, next chapter will be longer. Probably.**


	3. Oh Sweet Merlin

"Nnngh…", I groaned, blinking my eyes open blearily and registering a couple of things in quick succession. The first was that there was bright light all around me, seeming to come from the very air itself. The second was that there didn't seem to be anything nearby except a bench, a couple of pillars, and a tall, bearded man with a staff.

Third, there was a tall, bearded man with a staff nearby.

"Well, I suppose you're the reason I'm here?", I groaned out as I pushed myself to a sitting position, glaring at the man as he chuckled. "You guess correctly, young man", he confirmed sagely, "Can you guess where you are?". Glancing around at my exceedingly familiar surroundings, I rolled my eyes and glared at the man again before answering.

"This is a place outside the local space-time, a sort of limbo between life and death. You pulled me from my time, and probably dimension, to inform me of some task I need to fulfill, whether by your request or some prophecy from a half-baked wannabe.", I said tonelessly, letting a small smirk cross my features as the man's eyes widened.

Recovering quickly from his shock, he agreed, "All correct. Surprising intuition you have there, young man. However, I am willing to bet my staff you don't know who I am, or exactly where you're going.".

"You're Merlin.", I deadpanned, "And you're sending me to Hogwarts, probably sometime during the period Harry Potter attended.". At his rather shocked look, I began studying my nails as I said," If you don't mind, could you send me to his third year? It's after the whole Chamber of Secrets thing in second, nullifying the danger of me getting petrified, but before the Triwizard Tournament in fourth, allowing me the chance to save Cedric.". I blinked as I thought of something, then stood quickly and claimed his staff.

"Thanks for the magical foci, by the way.", I said pleasantly, narrowing my eyes a bit as I concentrated. A few seconds later the staff seemed to liquefy, flowing up my arm before separating into four blobs of liquid wood. A portion of it became a simple silver necklace, another portion became a simple silver ring on my left hand, a third portion turned into a silver bracelet on my right wrist, and the fourth portion assumed the form of a wand, held gently in my hand.

"Never catch yourself without a magical foci.", I said firmly, then added, "Or a computer, but that doesn't really apply here.".

"H-How did you do that?", Merlin stuttered, staring at me with wide eyes, and I rolled mine before accusing, "You know as well as I do that magic is nothing but will and intent. And please, don't pretend at the 'shocked onlooker' persona. You probably planned this entire encounter, right down to 'losing' your staff.". Merlin blinked a few times before assuming a calm, grandfatherly expression.

"Once again, you are correct. Masterful Transfiguration, by the way.", he complimented, but I shook my head and corrected, "Transmutation. Transfiguration is forcing the building blocks of the universe to assume a different shape, which falls apart when there's no more magic available. What I did was disassemble those building blocks and put them back together differently. A bit more complicated to be sure, but it doesn't turn back when there's no magic put into it.".

"And how did you seemingly master such a complicated art?", Merlin queried, but I only smiled and said, "Will and intent, Merlin. Will and intent.". He raised an eyebrow, and I sighed before explaining, "Like I said, magic is will and intent. You have to will it to happen and know what you want it to do. After that it's all just power requirements, and here I have an unlimited supply.". Merlin smiled and nodded once, saying, "Excellent explanation, young man.". I smiled a bit, then bit my lip thoughtfully.

"Alright, so. A few questions. I suppose what I'm going there to do is help Harry become independent, powerful, evil, dark, escape from Azkaban, come into his legacy as the heir of the Founders and you, help him cope with his creature inheritance…all those lovely little clichés. However, what stops the headmaster from reading my mind? Mastering Occlumency before I go to Hogwarts is gonna be a bit tough, unless of course you let me stay here, where time isn't a thing.", I hinted, and Merlin nodded in thought.

"Then, of course, there's the matter of my accent. A Canadian kid going to Hogwarts with no transfer papers to speak of, no Gringotts account, and no money to pay for tuition? I suppose I could be an orphan, but no records in the orphanage? If I show up at one, they'll ask questions. Why am I there? What happened to my parents?", I asked rhetorically, and Merlin nodded again before speaking.

"Yes, well, unfortunately I cannot let you stay here. It is simply against the rules of the universe. I suppose you'll just have to not look Dumbledore in the eyes.", he suggested with a smile. I merely glared at him, and he chuckled before saying placatingly, "On a lighter note, I have with me twenty Galleons for your use.". He handed me a bag of softly clinking gold, smiling even more widely at my dubiously raised eyebrow.

"Right.", I drawled, opening the bag and looking down into it. Just as he said, twenty large gold pieces sat there innocently, and I was just about to remark how this wouldn't even get me all my books when I had an idea.

"Hey, what year was Gringotts founded?", I asked him curiously, and he replied promptly, "Sometime around 1743, why?". "Oh, you already know why.", I said dismissively, pulling the drawstring on the bag closed tightly and slipping it into my pocket. I ran through things in my head again, then nodded.

"Could you send me to Gringotts in 1747? I need to tell them to invest this in…", I trailed off at Merlin's amused smile, then sighed in exasperation.

"Right, I got it.", I said flatly, turning slightly to the side and closing my eyes. I breathed deeply, allowing my senses to expand to include the vast reserves of power around me and visualizing what I wanted to happen. As an afterthought, I added a little swirl of what I hoped would turn out to be temporal warping to adjust my age, and slashed my new wand through the air.

It was as if I had cut stretched canvas with a knife. A thin elliptical of torn existence made itself known, through which one could see swirling masses of spatial matter. Every so often they solidified into a variety of scenes from all over the world, and some not _of _the world, before being snatched away again.

"I'd like to say it's been fun, but it hasn't. Pleasure to meet you, though.", I offered, grinning when he smiled at me. Then, right before I stepped through the portal, I furrowed my brow and asked, "Hey, is it true you're from Atlantis?",but he merely smiled wider and said, "Knowledge isn't nearly as satisfying when you don't attain it yourself.". Then he stepped forward quickly and pushed me through the rip in time and space.


	4. Banking

It seemed my journey took me an instant at the same time it took me an age. I felt as if I had been walking a few hundred miles, when in reality I had only fallen a few feet; though, perhaps it was the other way around.

In any case, I was catapulted through a door-shaped patch of whiteness into existence, stopping just before hitting the ground to settle softly. I turned my head to see a _very _familiar arch, its translucent curtain wavering in a nonexistent wind. I did my very best to ignore the whispering that came from behind it as I examined the chamber around me more closely, and it was with poorly-disguised relief that I spied a stairway leading up. Then I noticed something.

I was shorter than I had remembered, and a quick glance down at my arms confirmed that they were smaller. The age distortion had worked, then. "Good…", I muttered to myself, relieved I wouldn't have to think of an explanation as to why a sixteen-year-old with no apparent magical education was transferring to Hogwarts. However, when I muttered, I noticed I didn't have a British accent. Ah well…

At the top of the stairs there was a door, so I took a deep breath and tried it. The flickering flames in the sconces on the other side of the door showed there was nothing it my line of sight, so I eased the door open a little more and slipped through the gap. At the last moment, I stopped the door from closing and searched around for a rock, putting it between the door and the frame. "Wouldn't do to get locked out…", I muttered, making sure my doorjamb was secure before glancing left and right. Left held a staircase that led down, but right had one moving up. "Right it is.", I said to myself.

It turned out that the site of the future Ministry building was more confusing than the Ministry building itself. Doors that lead to nowhere, walls that weren't really solid, and once, a trapdoor that simply lead to the ceiling a few feet behind it. Obviously, someone was trying to protect something in here, but whether it was the arch or something else I didn't know.

"Well, isn't this just the funnest place in existence?", I asked rhetorically as I opened another door to reveal a wall. "I'm glad they tear you down for a government establishment in the future.", I snapped at the wall, closing the door again and going further down the hallway. "Now, if I was the wizard who built this place, where would I put the exit?", I asked myself as I strode down the hallway looking left and right. Then I stopped, blinked, and smacked my forehead with a palm.

I turned around to see a nondescript doorway, exactly like the others, following me around as if on greased wheels.

"What, you couldn't have spoken up sooner?", I asked it sarcastically, sighing when it didn't say anything and then slapping myself when I realized I had expected it to. I pulled the door open and found myself staring at the backs of an entire battalion of intimidating-looking wizards. One of them turned around at the noise the door had made and exclaimed, "Intruder!", and as one they all trained their wands on me.

I raised my hands in surrender immediately, thankful my wand was still in my pocket."Erm, greetings. I hast come through the archway seeking Gringotts bank.", I said in my best English accent, hoping they bought it. At the mention of the archway, however, they immediately lowered their wands. "Dost thou speak as if knowledge of the arch is in thine possession?", one of them asked, wide-eyed, and I hesitantly nodded. After a moment he prompted, "Go on then! What is it?".

I cleared my throat and began hesitantly, "The arch is many things, sir. A door through space and time, a bridge to different realities, and all manner of other things, I'm sure. However, first and foremost, it is a death sentence to those who use it wrong.". The man, and many of his colleagues adopted a worried and frightened expression, and I continued, "Spirits rest on the other side of the curtain, whispering sweet nothings in an effort to bring thee close enough to grasp. They pull thee in and do not let ye go, holding thine soul for all eternity.".

They all looked frightened now, and I smirked inwardly at their expressions before saying, "Now, if thou dost not have any further questions, I seek Gringotts bank. Wouldst thou be so kind as to show me the way?". One of the men nodded through his fear and pointed down the street, which I could now take in. We were in a very medieval-looking version of what I assumed to be London, which wasn't far off from the way I pictured a wizard-run London of modern times.

Well, modern for me.

Ladies in big dresses were everywhere, bustling down the street with children in tow or with baskets of clothing on their heads. Men in dapper-looking suits, cloaks, coats, and varying styles of hats were scattered amongst them, talking or smoking or simply walking to wherever they were going.

"Third road on the left leads down to a pub called the-", he began, but I cut him off with, "The Leaky Cauldron, right?". He looked at me, surprised, before nodding hesitantly. I sighed and muttered, "Some things never change, even before they're things.". To the wizards I said cheerfully, "Thank thee for thine help, gentlemen. Anticipate my return shortly.", beginning my trek down the street.

Behind me, I heard one of them groan in fear.

Smirking again, I looked around at the many people hustling and bustling down the busy street. There were the aforementioned men and women, children chasing after each other, dogs chasing after the children, cats filching from food stalls, and angry food merchants chasing cats with brooms. I had a hard time differentiating the Muggles from the magical, probably because they dressed so similarly today, but I had no doubts that there were many.

I stuck my hands in my pockets to thwart a grungy-looking boy that I saw sneaking up behind me as I turned the corner, smirking at his disappointed look before pointing discreetly at a food stand. A loaf of bread vanished and reappeared in the boy's hands, and I smirked at the awestruck lad before making a shooing gesture. He ran off, grinning widely.

Yeah, stealing was wrong, but so was little boys being forced to pickpocket strangers in order to survive. I shook my head grimly as I spied the swinging sign of the pub, moving over to the sidewalk and glancing around before slipping through the door. Once inside I didn't deign to hang around, moving quickly through the room to the back door. I stepped into the back courtyard and closed the door behind me, striding up to the wall and tapping the brick three up, two across from the dustbin with my wand.

When the passageway opened I was momentarily awestruck by the sheer magic of the place. The movies didn't do justice to how amazing it was. Moving slowly through the Alley in order to take it all in, I noted that Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor wasn't there yet, replaced instead by a place that sold freshly-baked bread. My mouth watered at the smell, but I shook my head and hurried along to Gringotts.

The bank was largely the same as the Gringotts from the movies. Same stoic guards, same engraved silver doors, and same row of tall counters manned by goblin attendants. Remembering the etiquette that was probably made up by fanfiction authors, I waited until one of the goblins acknowledged my presence before bowing deeply.

"Greetings, master goblin. May your vault be ever full and your enemies cower at your might.", I said, smiling at him with a closed-mouth smile. Either he was surprised at my knowledge of goblin customs or it was just plain wrong, but he simply stared at me a moment before shaking his head and saying, "Greetings, young wizard. What can Gringotts do for you today?". I smiled up at him again and drew the pouch out of my pocket, saying, "I would like to open an account, depositing the twenty Galleons in this sack. I would also like to put in charge of the money a goblin account manager, who I know will do his very best to grow the admittedly small amount into something to envy.".

The goblin had raised a dubious eyebrow when I told him the amount of gold, but when I opened the pouch and showed him the coins the other eyebrow rose as well. "Small indeed. And what, may I ask, is your name?", the goblin asked, and I smiled and said, "Jason Thrace.".

The goblin made a note on ledger before turning and barking at one of the goblins lining the hall in Gobbledegook. The guard rushed forward and listened to the rushed speech before accepting my sack of money and striding purposefully to a door set in the wall. Turning back to me, the Goblin said, "Very good, Mr. Thrace. Your gold has been deposited into vault number six, and we will do our utmost to ensure that it grows into 'something to envy'.". He handed me a key and said, "This is your key. It is used for both identification and the opening of your vault. To complete the opening of your account, you will need to place a drop of blood on it.", extending an ornate silver knife. I took the handle and pricked my finger, smearing the blood on the key as I handed it back.

The key flashed brightly, and the pinprick of a wound closed.

I smiled, once again without teeth, then grew serious and said, "Very good, but I have some further instructions about the handling of my gold.". The goblin raised an eyebrow and motioned for me to continue, so I said, "Sometime in the future Gringotts will fall under the control of the Ministry of Magic. I don't want my gold to be touched by those fools, so please, do everything you can to make sure it isn't. Gringotts will be returned to goblin control in 1865, at which time I wish for my gold to be invested in anything with the Potter name on it. Investments that have anything to do with the Weasleys are to be avoided. Also, do _not _be fooled by anything that proclaims me dead. I will return in the year nineteen ninety-one to resume control of my vault.".

The goblin's eyebrow rose even more at my speech, but once again he said nothing except, "Is that all?". "It is. I thank you for your assistance, master goblin. May your enemies feel the sting of your blade and may your vaults be filled to bursting.", I said with another close-lipped smile, and after a hesitant second the goblin returned it, saying, "And may your enemies feel the blight your magic inflicts, their vaults merged into yours.". My smile widened, and I bowed lowly once again before taking my leave.

"Well, that was relatively stress-free.", I muttered to myself as I made my way down the Alley again, stopping only to open the passageway again. I sped through the bar and trekked back to the group of wizards I had met before, who graciously informed me that all I had to do to find the arch again was follow the left wall. I thanked them profusely and went back inside the maze-like building, indeed following the left wall until I found the door I had propped open with the rock. I descended to the floor with a jump and a muttered, "_Arresto momentum._", facing the stone arch with a sense of finality.

With a flick of my wand, the curtain drew itself back, and I stepped properly into the world of Harry Potter.


	5. Explanations

I waved cheerfully to the Unspeakables studying the arch as I stepped out of the folds of fluttering fabric, turning left and making my way up the stairs of the visitor's gallery to the door. I slipped through into the Time Room before the stunned employees could say anything, turning right towards what I knew to be the circular room with the spinning wall. As I passed it, I gave a long glance to the cabinet containing the Time Turners, then shook my head and continued on.

I entered the spinning room and made sure to _not _shut the door, crossing quickly to the door opposite me and pulling it open. I walked through purposefully, posing my strides as if I had all the reason in the world to be there and anybody who questioned it would be hurt. I made it to the elevators without incident, an empty one beckoning me with its invitingly open doors, and I boarded with a sigh of relief and pressed the 'A' button.

The mesh doors closed with a clang and the elevator jerked into motion quickly, pulling itself back before ascending swiftly. Luck was on my side, or perhaps Merlin had pulled a few strings, but nobody called my elevator on the way up, and the doors opened into the Atrium soon enough. Nobody noticed me as I made my way towards the fireplaces.

That was where my luck ended.

"Oi! What're doin' 'ere?", the guard called as I passed the checkpoint, pointing straight at me. Thinking quickly, I pulled another tidbit of info from the fanfictions I'd read and turned to slowly glare at the guy.

"If you _must_ know-", I began venomously, "-there was a little _accident_ down in the Department of Mysteries. I've been sent home until the effects wear off. Now, if you'll _kindly_ excuse me.". I spun on my heel and walked with measured steps to one of the fireplaces, stepping inside and barking, "Diagon Alley!". A little tube in the side of the fireplace spat out some Floo powder, and suddenly the world was spinning.

I kept my wits about me, however, and when I registered that I was slowing down, I spun sharply in the other direction and stuck my foot out as if taking a step. I stepped out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron with only a slight stumble, washing the mock anger from my face and waving cheerfully to Tom as I made my way out the door to the back courtyard. I opened the passage and began trotting over to Gringotts, ignoring the shops and people alike. Just like back in 1747, the guards were stoic and the silver doors were inscribed with the poem.

I entered and found an available teller, mimicking my visit in the past as I waited until he acknowledged me. I was only slightly perturbed to find that it was the same goblin from my earlier visit, as nothing had ever explicitly stated the lifespan of goblins.

Then again, it _had _been two hundred forty-four years since my last visit…

"Greetings, master goblin. May your vault be ever full and your enemies cower at your might.", I intoned, bowing lowly before straightening and giving him a closed-mouth smile. He stared at me, blinking slowly, before returning the smile and saying, "Greetings, young wizard. What can Gringotts do for you today?". "I would like to enquire about my holdings, transactions, investments, and any properties purchased over the last two hundred forty-four years.", I requested politely, brining my key out and holding it up. He reached out and plucked it from my fingers, bringing it close to his face and turning it over in his fingers. After more than a few glances at me, he said, "Of course. This way, if you would.", and climbed down from the stool he was sitting on.

He lead the way through one of the many doors lining the hall, leading me down twisting and turning corridors before we finally arrived at a door marked 'Thrace Account'. Knocking on it, he gave me a few more cursory glances before a gruff voice yelled from behind the door, "Enter!".

The walls were adorned with multiple weapons, all sharp as Poseidon's trident and gleaming like Zeus' thunderbolt. A stand in the corner held a full suit of goblin armor, also polished to perfection, and just as deadly-looking as the weapons. Carpeting the floor was the skin of a manticore, the scorpion tail curled up behind it and the teeth bared in a snarl.

The goblin behind the desk was as grizzled as his weapons were sharp; his hair was matted, his skin was wrinkly and scarred, and he had an air of someone that would kill you just as soon as he would shake your hand. He was scratching on a parchment that looked like a very complicated bank form, writing already covering the top half of it, and so I stood silently and waited for him to look up.

Finally he finished writing whatever it was the form was about, looked up, and demanded, "Yes Bognuk?".

"I would like to present to you, Director Ragnok, young mister Jason Thrace.", the goblin, whose name was evidently Bognuk, said. I bowed lowly to Director Ragnok and intoned, "May your enemies tremble at your fury as their gold lines your vault.", straightening and giving, yet again, a closed-mouth smile. Director Ragnok raised an eyebrow, glancing from me to Bognuk. Sensing his skepticism, I spoke up.

"If I may, Director Ragnok? The Department of Mysteries holds many secrets, obviously, and it would seem that the Arch of Death would be better situated in the Time Room.", I mused, smiling again at the Director. His raised eyebrow turned into an expression of understanding, and he said, "Many wondrous things are possible with magic, it seems. Come, sit.".

I moved forward to take one of the seats, then stopped as I remembered something. "Forgive me, Dircetor Ragnok, but my knowledge of goblin culture is limited to greetings, farewells, closed-mouth smiles, and moving the hair at the nape of the neck aside as a sign of compliance and inferiority. I would ask you to please not be offended should I do something wrong, and perhaps educate me on what I should have done instead?", I queried, and Ragnok gave a grimace and said, "Of course, mister Thrace. It's not as if I'm not used to it, and I would be…not unhappy to have the chance to educate a wizard on our customs.".

I sighed in relief and said, "Thank you, Director Ragnok. I wouldn't like to earn your ire. Ignoring all the very sharp weapons hanging from your walls, you _do _control the economy of the wizarding world.". The Director's eyebrows raised in slight surprise, and he said, "Not many people think of that, mister Thrace. On that note, here's your first lesson then. It is improper to mention a goblin's weapons off the battlefield, except in greetings or farewells.". "Ah. Of course. My apologies.", I expressed sheepishly.

"Not a problem, mister Thrace. Please, sit down.", Director Ragnok offered, and I tentatively took the seat to the left. Bognuk sat down in the other chair, and without further ado our meeting began.

"So, mister Thrace, may I ask why you have decided to return after an absence of two hundred forty four years?", Director Ragnok inquired, and with only a slight pause to collect my thoughts, I explained, "I have been chosen to help young Harry Potter escape the convoluted machinations of a world against him.".

"A world, you say? Please, explain.", Director Ragnok prompted, and I took a deep breath before continuing, "Young mister Potter has a very dark future ahead of him, and very bleak present, and a less-than-ideal past. After his parents were killed he was sent to live with his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, who treat him like a house elf because he is a wizard. He is forced to sleep in a cupboard, his only clothes are rags he inherits from his cousin, the only food items he receives are table scraps, and he is forced to curb his remarkable intellect so that his cousin gets better grades than him.".

I wisely decided to pause here. The two goblins were very red in the face, their expressions darkening over the course of my explanation until I began fearing for the safety of the furniture. After a few moments of heavy breathing, Director Ragnok ground out, "Go on."

"In his first year at Hogwarts he will be forced to fight a mountain troll in defence of a classmate, make it past a series of so-called defenses that I believe were specifically tailored to test his and his friends' talents and skills, and face off against Tom Marvolo Riddle again, all in defence of the Philosopher's Stone that will be withdrawn from Gringotts the very same day Voldemort tries to steal it.", I finished. "Why take it out at all? Why not leave it here?", Bognuk demanded.

_Think fast, you idiot!_, I thought desperately.

"I've no idea. Why _not _leave it here? I'm not the person to ask. If it was up to me I _would_ leave it here. Put it in a maximum security vault, or perhaps just place an anti-summoning charm on it and throw it over the side of a cart, laughing as the potential thief tries to distinguish it from all the other rock. Trouble is, I'm not Albus bloody Dumbledore. _He's _the one that orders the Stone to be taken to Hogwarts.", I informed them, and that seemed to appease their questions. Then, I had a thought.

"Actually, that raises another good question. Why move it at all? The Flamels kept the Stone safe throughout history, ever since the fourteenth century. Through Grindelwald and Voldemort's first reign they kept it safe. Why move it now?", I asked rhetorically, pausing for a moment before answering myself, "Bait.".

"Bait?", Director Ragnok prompted, and I agreed, "Bait. Remember when I said mister Potter and his friends had to make it through defences to get to the Stone, and how I thought it was all a test? Well, what's a test without a final confrontation? To be properly tested, Harry needed to face off against Voldemort, but without the Stone Voldemort wouldn't be there.". I leaned back in my chair and repeated, "Bait.".

"It is impolite to have imperfect posture when sitting in the presence of a goblin.", Director Ragnok remarked absently as he and Bognuk thought over my words, and I hurriedly straightened up as Bognuk agreed, "Yes, I can see how that makes sense. No confrontation, no real test. Alright…continue.".

"Well, I believe second year is the most shocking.", I confided, and when Ragnok asked, "What happens?", I paused for effect before saying, "He kills a seventy-foot basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor and no wand.".

The arm of Director Ragnok's chair splintered in his grip, Bognuk's nails drew four parallel grooves in his, and I blinked in surprise as I imagined, for the first time, exactly what that entailed. Shaking my head to clear it, I continued, "If that isn't bad enough, he kills it by stabbing it through the roof of its mouth when it lunges at him, but a fang is embedded in his arm. He only survives because of Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix.".

"Third year will be a little less strenuous. He masters the Patronus charm, overcomes the crippling effect Dementors have on him, and goes back in time to save the life of his godfather and an innocent hippogriff.", I listed airily, and it was true; that _was _one of his less strenuous years. "His godfather?", Bognuk questioned, and I supplied, "That poor Sirius Black. He escapes from Azkaban, you see, to go after Peter Pettigrew, the one who framed him for the murder of thirteen Muggles and himself, along with the betrayal of Lily and James Potter. Oh, also to see his godson again.".

"It gets better from there, right?", Bognuk asked hopefully, and I thought for a moment before admitting, "Depends. Are Dementors better or worse than the Triwizard Tournament?".

Ragnok crushed that poor chair arm even more, and Bognuk let loose a string of what I assumed were goblin curses. I nodded in sympathy and listed, "First task, getting around a dragon to steal an egg. Second task, braving the Black Lake to retrieve an important person taken from him. Third task, hedge maze.". They relaxed a bit at the last task, but then I remarked, "Of course, the Triwizard Cup will be a Portkey that leads to the Little Hangleton graveyard where Pettigrew kills one of Harry's classmates and resurrects Voldemort with Harry's blood.".

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?", Ragnok demanded flatly as Bognuk made grooves in the other arm of his chair. I thought for a moment, then held up two of my fingers a hair's width apart. "Thought so.", he said as Bognuk picked wood splinters out from under his nails. "Fifth year is where it starts to get complicated.", I warned, taking a breath before explaining.

"The Ministry plants a toad at Hogwarts to _not_ teach the students any Defense Against the Dark Arts, so Harry starts up his own DADA class called the DA in retaliation. Blood quills are used liberally in the toad's detentions, the DA is betrayed, and Harry and his friends have to break into the Department of Mysteries to save Harry's godfather. However, it turns out that Sirius isn't really there; it's just Voldemort sending Harry visions to get him to the D.O.M. to retrieve a prophecy orb.".

I paused, then said, "Sirius is pushed through the Veil of Death by Bellatrix.".

I sighed, then continued, "Sixth year is a bit less complicated. Dumbledore starts showing Harry memories of Tom Riddle in and out of school, and the year ends with Dumbledore taking Harry to a seaside cave. They successfully retrieve the locket they were looking for, but in actuality it's a fake. The real one was stolen by Regulus Black before he died. They return to school, and the night culminated with Snape euthanizing Dumbledore.".

"Euthanizing?". Bognuk asked, confused, and I elaborated, "Dumbledore had put on a ring the year before, believing it was the Resurrection Stone of the Deathly Hallows. It actually _was, _but it was also cursed. He had a year to live, and that night on the Astronomy Tower was around ten months since he put the ring on.".

"I don't understand.", Ragnok admitted, "Why go to all that trouble for a locket? And why was the ring so well protected?". "Well…that's sort of the crux of the whole story. You see, the basilisk from second year was summoned by a fragment of Riddle, planted in a diary. The ring Dumbledore put on was cursed because it also had a fragment of Voldemort in it. The locket Regulus stole had a fragment inside of it.", I listed, looking first Ragnok and then Bognuk in the eyes as I took a deep breath and said, "They're all horcruxes.". Bognuk blinked and admitted, "Well, compared to the other stuff you told us, that's not that bad.".

I glanced at him and said, "Harry's a horcrux too.".

Ragnok ripped the arm of his chair off and threw it with deadly precision at the wall, embedding it almost halfway in the solid stone wall. Bognuk began shredding the arms of his chair in a fury, not stopping until they were nothing but shavings littering the ground around him. I was trying hard not to be noticed by the two absolutely _livid_ goblins, but they both turned on me at the same time. "How many?!", Ragnok demanded, and I knew what he meant without asking.

"Seven, including Harry.", I said, ticking them off on my finger, "The locket, kept at the Black family home. The diary, currently in Lucius Malfoy's possession. The ring, currently kept under the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton. Nagini the snake, current whereabouts unknown. Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, kept in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. Harry, at his relatives' house. And finally Helga Hufflepuff's cup, kept here at Gringotts in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault.".

Ragnok yelled out in Gobbledegook, and immediately a guard came rushing in. The Director yelled a short sentence at the guard and nodded once, and the guard nodded back before hurrying back out. "We will take care of the cup and the ring. The locket, snake, diadem, and diary we can't do anything about, but do you have any ideas as to what to do for Harry?", Ragnok demanded, and I piped up promptly, "Sirius Black never received a trial. If you bring this fact to the attention of Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, she will see to it that Sirius is tried. And since he's innocent, he'll be able to take custody of Harry.".

"Right. Since you seem eleven, I assume you are planning on going to Hogwarts in order to look after Harry?", Ragnok asked, much calmer now that action was being taken, and I nodded the affirmative. "It is improper to use non-verbal answers with a goblin.", he instructed, and I apologized, "Oh, ah, sorry sir. Yes, I do plan on attending Hogwarts.". "Very good.", Ragnok said approvingly, calling for another guard and talking to him in Gobbledegook as well. "He's getting a message to Madame Bones.", Ragnok explained as the guard ran out, "She should get it in about fifteen minutes.".

I sighed in relief and clarified, "So, there's nothing more we can do right now?", and at Director Ragnok's, "I'm afraid not.", I pushed the feelings of regret aside and piped up cheerily, "Well then, no sense wasting time. I would like a clear picture of my account as soon as possible. You never know what could happen now that I've changed things like this.".


	6. Letters and Screaming and Rescues, Oh My

Five minutes later, Director Ragnok had a stack of parchment in front of him that looked as thick as the hardback Order of the Phoenix, with about as much writing. I raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Been busy, have you?", and Ragnok replied smugly, "You have no idea.".

The first page was a list of my liquid assets and where they were coming from. "You have a steady flow of money coming in from a number of sources.", Ragnok began, "You have a sixty-three percent share in the Nimbus broom company, you fund a legion of scavengers trekking out to dangerous locations such as Africa, the Arctic and Antarctic, the Himalayas, and other exotic places to collect potions ingredients, and you have a twenty-five percent stake in everything Gringotts cursebreakers bring back from their expeditions. All magical artifacts with a use have been broken of any curse that may have been on them and placed in a separate vault for you; everything else has been sold, save for a few…choice pieces of furniture.". He paused for a moment, the continued, "Over the years we've scooped up any and all Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade shares that have went on the market, and you now own at least a fifteen percent stake in all but the most stubborn shops.".

The page was turned to reveal a list of things acquired from the various expeditions, along with anything from the companies. "Here is a list of everything we've kept for you from the expeditions. The 'extra' pieces I mentioned are highlighted in yellow, and anything not from the expeditions is highlighted in red. Things like brooms from the Nimbus company, a portion of the potions ingredients kept under stasis, and all the other bits and bobs.".

Another turn revealed a list that made my eyes widen. "This is a list of all the real estate you own. A chalet in the Swiss Alps, a bungalow on a secluded, Unplottable island in Fiji, and a New York penthouse are just some of the places we've…acquired for you. There are also a number of undeveloped plots that are being leased out to farmers for growing vegetables, fruits, and livestock.".

The page was turned a final time to show the accounts payable. "You owe a few small amounts to various companies for various reasons. Costs for the gear of your potions scavengers, for example. The total doesn't even make a dent in your assets.".

And then Director Ragnok fell silent, allowing me to let the full weight of his words sink in. "And, uhm…what, exactly, is my net worth?", I asked, almost hesitantly, and Director Ragnok didn't even falter as he said, "One hundred sixty-five million, five hundred twenty-five thousand, two hundred eighty-nine Galleons, fourty-three sickles, and sixty-two knuts.".

That's about the time a high, rage-filled shriek tore through the sudden quiet of the office, and once the sound had subsided I blinked, cocked my head a bit, and said quite calmly, "I suppose that means Director Bones got your message.". "Indeed.", Ragnok agreed with faint amusement, "Perhaps you should go meet with her?".

"That would be best, yes. Wouldn't want her to murder Dumbledore _quite _yet.", I mused as I stood, giving a feral, toothy grin to them as I added, "He can't be made to suffer if he's dead.". They grinned back as I inquired, "Did I get that right? Toothy grin to denote hostility?", and Bognuk assured me, "Masterfully. Goodbye for now, young master Thrace, and let your enemy's gold flood your vault as they drown in your might.". "Farewell, venerable goblins. May your gold never stop growing and your enemies flinch in fear at your name even in the afterlife.", I bade them, bowing lowly before exiting the office.

Once outside the bank I raced back to the Leaky Cauldron, where I could spot several concerned Aurors milling about as they waited for something. Standing beside one was a little girl of around eleven, and making a guess, I stepped up to her and smiled. "Hi. My name's Jason Thrace. D'you know what's going on? I heard this awful screaming…", I trailed off, letting an expression of fear mixed with concern slip across my face, but the girl I suspected was Susan Bones assured me, "Oh don't worry, that was just my Aunt. She got a letter that…erm…upset her, let's say, and she hasn't come out of the Cauldron since. Oh, my name's Susan Bones, by the way.".

"Pleasure to meet you.", I said with a grin, glancing at the wall that separated the Alley from the pub, "Though I must say, your Aunt must have the loudest scream ever. I heard her over in Gringotts!". Susan groaned and buried her face in her hands as the Aurors snickered a bit, but they promptly stopped when I wondered aloud, "I wonder if she ever yells at the Aurors like that…". "All the time.", Susan supplied, peeking up at me from between her fingers, and after staring at the Aurors for a second I mused, "Well, they probably deserve it.".

"Oh, they do.", a voice confirmed, and I flicked my gaze to the most imposing woman I'd ever seen. The descriptions in the books didn't do her justice. She held herself with an air of authority, a no-nonsense type of feeling that instantly had me feeling cowed and sheepish as if I'd done something wrong. Her monocle glinted in the sunlight, hair pulled up into a severe bun, and though she looked as if she might bite the head off of the next person to speak to her Susan ran up to her post haste and hugged her 'round the middle.

"Auntie!", she cried happily as she looked up at Madame Bones, "Are you okay now? Did you fix whatever made you mad?". "I'm just about to. But first I'd like to meet this intriguing young man here.", she said, gently moving the girl to the side before striding forward and extending her hand. "Amelia Bones, screamer who received a most infuriating letter.", she said with a sardonic smile, and I shook her hand firmly and said, "Jason Thrace, eleven-year-old who sent said infuriating letter.".

Amelia's eyebrow rose minutely, and with a soft smile I informed her, "He needs help, Madame Bones. I suggest we do not delay any further.". Her other brow rose to meet the first, and with a smile I drew my wand.

Turning around, I made a series of complicated gestures in the air around me and began muttering nonsense under my breath. With a final flourish, I thrust my wand into the air in front of me and turned it like a key. The space around the tip ripped away from the rest in a clean circle, collapsing into nothingness and leaving a hole. On the other side was a generic suburban hallway, but though it was bland I recognized it perfectly.

I stepped through immediately and crossed quickly to the door under the stairs, flicking my fingers at the door and pulling it open. A confused-looking eleven-year-old with unruly black hair and the greenest eyes you ever did see blinked up at me foggily, and with an amused smile I plucked his glasses from the ledge beside him and slid them onto his face. "Greetings, Mr. Potter.", I whispered to him, "I've come to take you from this horrid place.". "T-To where?", he whispered back nervously, but I merely raised my eyebrows and said, "Does it matter?".

He blinked and immediately got to his feet, pausing to say to me, "I suppose not.", before moving past me into the hall. I winced at the conviction in his voice and made to follow, but before we could exit the house there was a piercing scream from behind us. In front of me Harry whirled around in fear, but I merely turned and gave the woman an easy smile.

"Petunia.", I said cordially, nodding politely as she leveled a frying pan at me, "How are you?". "Who are you?!", she demanded shrilly, and it took all of willpower not to wince. "My name is Jason Thrace. I'm a friend of Harry's. He's gonna come stay with me and my family.", I informed her calmly, my smile widening a bit. The pan lowered a fraction, and after a moment she hedged cautiously, "For how long?". "For as long as he wants. Which, given the way you've treated him, would be forever.", I guessed, glancing over my shoulder to see Harry nodding energetically. I turned back to see Petunia with a small smile on her face. "For…ever? He'd be gone?", she asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"Indeed.", I said with a benevolent smile, "All you need to do is say two little words.". She was immediately on guard, raising the pan again with suspicion in her eyes as she demanded, "What words?". "Just an agreement.", I said placatingly, holding my empty hands up, "Kidnapping is illegal, even in the wizarding world.". She relaxed again, and with a smile to her I posed the question Harry had been waiting ten years for.

"Do you, Petunia Dursley neé Evans, relinquish control and custody of one Harry James Potter to the magical House of Thrace, owing to the fact that you find yourself inadequately prepared to care for two young boys instead of one?", I asked her, and after a prompting nod she said, "I do.". A spark of magic flashed between us, a small sigh from the very air itself, and it was done.

"Very well.", I said, smiling, "I will have to place a temporary ward on your home to make sure his mail isn't sent here by mistake, but once I get it sorted out I'll come back to remove it.". She narrowed her eyes but gave a curt nod, recognizing the need but not liking it all the same. My smile widened, and with a courteous, "Mrs. Dursley.", I turned to address Harry.

"Now Harry, I will explain everything later, but here's the things you need to know right now. Magic exists, you're famous for killing a sociopathic killer at fifteen months old, and in order to prevent people from recognizing you I need to disguise you. Are you okay with this?", I asked him politely, noting the spark of disbelief in his eyes, but all the same he nodded. I smiled and brought out my wand, rapping him on the head sharply, and with a crack his eyes were blue, his hair was red, his scar was gone, and he was a bit less skinny.

"Alrighty then, time to go!", I prompted, passing him and tapping the front door with my wand. I pulled it open to reveal the interior of the Leaky Cauldron, waiting not a second to grab his hand and pull him through. "Ta ta, Mrs. Dursley!", I called as the door swung shut.

-

Petunia Dursley spent a long time staring at the door her nephew and that strange boy had disappeared through, pan held limply at her side and eyes wide in disbelief. Her emotions warred inside of her; relief, anger, envy…and deep down, a very hidden pang of sadness and regret.

She didn't start when the vase appeared on the side table in a blaze of light. She was barely surprised when it filled with dirt as if poured from a pitcher. She was hardly fazed when a pink ribbon appeared and tied itself around the neck of the vase. But when a small green shoot, as if in slow motion, pushed up out of the brown earth and blossomed into a flower, she staggered back and sat down heavily on the steps.

And when she verified that yes, it was actually there, and no, she wasn't just seeing things, she burst into hiccupping sobs at the sight of the innocent white lily.


End file.
